Albion
by Lady-Arrowwood
Summary: The people of Albion waited long for the return of the Once and Future King, Arthur Pendragon, the son of Uther. When a king named Uther rose to the throne, they thought their prayers had been answered. And then the king had a daughter. Fem!Arthur


**Disclaimer**: Sadly, despite my best strongly worded letters, I still do not own _Merlin_, which belong to BBC.

**A/N: **I decided to try my hand at a fem!fic, and since there are already way more fem!Merlin than fem!Arthur fics out there, I thought I'd try to add another fem!Arthur to the mix. Because, why not, right? This fic has a lot of inspiration from a little-known novel called _Andraste_ and a much better known novel called _The Other Boleyn Girl_. It's not a retelling or anything, but I'm sort of aiming for that sort of courtly intrigue.

* * *

><p>Artura's hair hung about her shoulders like a fluffy golden cloud rather than the flowing, elegant tresses that a princess was supposed to have. She twirled one of her curls delicately between her fingertips as she waited at the king's side, her eyes on the scaffolding before her. To the king's left sat Lady Morgana, the king's ward. Lady Morgana had lost both of her parents—her mother to an outbreak of plague and her father to battle—before she was ten years old. Fortunately, her father had been the king's favored knight, and though she wasn't strictly royalty, her family had some wealth, and the king agreed to raise her as if she were his daughter. Lady Morgana looked the epitome of a perfect princess, from her beautiful black curls to her ever pale complexion, which sun-loving Artura never had.<p>

The crowd surrounding the scaffolding spoke in hushed voices. The king stood proudly on the balcony of the palace as they brought forth the prisoner, a tall, lanky man covered in filth. "This man is charged with the crime of sorcery," said King Uther. "The punishment for such a heinous crime is death by beheading."

The executioner waited with his ax ready as two guards led the accused to the platform and placed his head on the block. The crowd's hushed whispers grew silent. The executioner raised his axe and brought it down. It took five strokes to behead the man, and his head rolled to the ground with a gush of blood. "How pitiful," muttered Lady Morgana.

Artura nodded in dull agreement. Apparently, the man's family hadn't had the money to bribe the executioner into sharpening his axe appropriately, an act which would've made the entire thing quicker, though Artura imagined that the executioner would hardly agree to bargain with a sorcerer. The crowd remained silent as the king stood again. "This is the price of sorcery," he said. "Let it serve as a reminder to those who practice such vile and wicked arts that such a thing as _magic _will not be tolerated in Camelot."

He turned and left the balcony. Artura hastily climbed to her feet, followed by Lady Morgana. "Will these sorcerers never cease?" he asked, sounding weary.

"I'm certain they shall, Sire," Artura replied.

"What harm was he doing?" asked Lady Morgana. "You would've done better to let him be!"

Uther turned on the woman, his eyes flashing. "You are too young to understand," he said. "You have not seen the extent of evil that this _sorcery _can accomplish."

Morgana's green eyes met his defiantly. "I do not see the harm in the man's actions."

"That is because you spent your childhood in Escetia where such practices are still allowed," retorted Uther. "I will hear nothing more of this from you."

Morgana bowed her head in compliance, though Artura was certain that the king hadn't heard the last of her protests. "Father," said Artura, "Let's not dwell on these things. They are best forgotten."

"Indeed, my dear Artura. We are having guests tonight, after all."

* * *

><p>Artura's maid Guinevere valiantly struggled against Artura's hair, hoping to tame it into something presentable for the feast, which was to welcome the Lady Helen, Countess of Kiernan, to the court. The Lady Helen was a widow; her husband the Lord Derion Briarwood, Earl of Kiernan, had been assassinated only half a year before. The countess was famed for her beauty and her singing voice, as well as being an intellectual and fashion-forward woman.<p>

Artura heard enough of the maids' gossip to know that everyone fully expected King Uther, a widower himself, to offer to marry her. If one had asked Artura her opinion, which of course, no one ever did, she would've said it hardly mattered what her father chose. She knew little of the Lady Helen, and if the woman could bring some happiness to the king's life and didn't interfere in Artura's affair, the princess would be quite content with the new queen.

The old queen, Artura's mother, had been a duchess, and she'd married the king at a young age. The young queen died in giving birth to Artura, the king's only child. Artura thought it grossly unfair that she lacked such natural beauty, as her mother had been known as 'Queen Ygraine the Radiant', for being such a beauty. Atura was certainly no beauty.

Guinevere's brush caught in one of the princess's curls, and Atura hissed. "Could you _pull _any harder? Are you trying to pull my hair out?"

"No, my Lady."

"Well, that is what you're doing!" snapped Artura.

"I beg your pardon, my Lady."

Artura rolled her eyes. "Honestly, Guinevere, how difficult is it to brush one's hair?"

Guinevere made no reply but continued brushing the princess's hair, albeit more hesitantly. When she was finished, the maid stepped away from the princess and bowed her head. "Finally," Artura muttered. "Honestly."

Artura strode across her chambers and into the hall. "_Honestly_," she said over her shoulder. "Is it really _that _difficult to have a half-decent servant?"

Artura looked over her shoulder as she shouted to her maid, and thus, as she turned around a corner, didn't see the person walking towards her until it was too late. Artura crashed into someone and groaned. "You _stupid _boy!" she shouted.

He wasn't exactly a boy; he was probably about seventeen. In one hand, he held a bottle, half-filled with some horrid looking creation. His eyes were wide as he stared at her. Still, he'd had the gall to _run into her_ and—Artura's eyes drifted down to her green dress and to the dull brown stain adorning it. "You've _ruined _my dress! It's worth more than you are, and you've ruined it, you clumsy idiot!"

"Quite frankly, I think it's an improvement. That dress was hideous before; at least now you can buy another."

"How dare you insult my clothing? At least I can _afford _proper clothing!"

"Oh, yes," the boy replied with wide blue eyes. "Truly, I should stand in awe of you for being so materialistic."

"You can't call me materialistic! Do you have any idea who I am?"

"Someone with poor taste in clothes?"

Artura clenched her fists. "No. I am _Princess _Artura. You have no right to speak to me like this."

The boy's expression grew alarmed. "Are you going to beg your pardon now?" asked Artura.

"No," he replied. "After all, you weren't watching where you were walking; it's your fault."

"How dare you—I am _royalty_!"

"Yes, I'm quite aware of that, _my Lady_, but unfortunately, being royal hasn't made you an entirely pleasant person, now has it?"

"I can have you executed for speaking to me this way."

"Would you?" the boy asked. "Would you really?"

Artura frowned, trying to remember if she'd seen the strange servant before. "I might," she said.

"Then, do it," he said, smiling cheekily.

Artura raised an eyebrow. "What is your name, boy?"

"Merlin, girl."

"Well, _Mer_lin, begin counting the days because this is probably your last."

Artura turned in a whirl of skirts and sulked back to her chambers to change into a dress without a large stain from whatever horrible smelling herbal concoction the boy had been carrying. As if sensing her lady's anger, Guinevere kept silent as she quickly helped undress the princess. "Guinevere," said Artura, "Has the head of staff employed any new servants?"

"Not lately, my Lady."

Artura frowned in thought. The boy had most definitely been a servant; the guards would never let some common man wander into the castle. His clothes hadn't been that of royalty or nobility, though. Perhaps, he was one of the Lady Helen's attendants. If that were the case, then, Artura herself couldn't order his execution, which might explain his rudeness. "What about the Lady Helen's servants? How many has she brought?"

"I know not, my Lady."

Artura nodded briskly and said nothing else as Guinevere dressed her in a scarlet gown. She decided to put the strange, forward, and irritating servant from her mind. She'd probably never see him again, regardless, and she mentally swore that she would not give him the satisfaction of knowing just how _irritating _he was. That would be beneath her.

* * *

><p>The Lady Helen was seated to the king's left as the guest of honor. Her position put her across from Artura at the dining table. The Lady Helen wore a simple plum colored gown, which bore little adornment. Still, the contrast with her pale skin was admirable, and Artura privately thought the Lady Helen was a woman who would appear beautiful wearing the most hideous gown in the kingdom. All the countess's movements were elegant and refined, even the simplest little motions. "It is a pleasure to have your company tonight," said Uther, raising his goblet slightly as if to toast her.<p>

The Lady Helen smiled. "The honor is mine, Sire. It has been a long time since I've seen Camelot and your court. I can't believe how beautiful my Lady Princess and Lady Morgana have grown!"

Artura smiled and nodded her thanks. "Thank you," replied Morgana.

"You're welcome, dear," replied the Lady Helen, "But truly, it is an honor. It has been dreadfully dull since my Lord passed."

"I imagine so," said Uther.

The Lady Helen smiled sadly. "Oh, but of course, you know."

"Yes."

Artura resisted the urge to shift uneasily in her seat. "I imagine it is difficult," continued the Lady Helen, "Not having a mother, Princess Artura."

Artura met the countess's deep brown eyes and smiled sadly. "Sometimes."

"She'd be proud of you," added the countess, "So very proud, and of you, too, Lady Morgana."

Morgana nodded, though her green eyes drifted away from the Lady Helen's gaze. "Thank you, Lady Helen."

The countess continued smiling, and Artura silently wondered if she was really smiling or simply using a polite façade. Camelot was one of the richest countries in Albion, and any woman would desire to marry the king. It wouldn't be too surprising for a woman of the Lady Helen's wealth and beauty to feign enchantment with the king, hoping for marriage. Artura had seen it happen many times. Courtiers came like ravenous wolves to their prey, vying for the king's favor, hoping to earn their daughters the position of queen since Queen Ygraine's death.

Thus far, they'd all failed, yet they remained persistent. "I have heard you are a knight, Lady Princess," said the countess.

"You have heard correctly," replied Artura.

"That is most unusual, a lady knight."

"Artura is a most unusual girl," said Uther, "Not the Once and Future King but still a headstrong, young woman."

Artura swallowed and forced a smile. "Oh, but you are still young, Sire. Perhaps, we shall have our Once and Future King yet," said the Lady Helen.

"There's hardly a need for him," Morgana said, "With so many lovely young men vying for Artura's hand. Besides, why should we believe in a prophecy? It's merely a common man's superstition."

Artura smirked. "You aren't jealous of my suitors, are you?" she asked.

Morgana smirked back. "Hardly."

"And what of you, Lady Morgana?" asked the countess. "Do you fancy a young man?"

Morgana shook her head. "No, but she is very schooled in the art of flirtatious behavior," replied Artura.

"Artura," said Uther, an amused smile on his face, despite his warning tone.

Artura nodded in compliance. "Regardless, it must be difficult for you, Lady Princess, having no mother. You, also, Lady Morgana," said the Lady Helen, for the second time that night.

"I find it to be of little difficulty," replied Artura. "My father is a wonderful guardian."

"Oh, but of course! I meant no offense!" exclaimed the Lady, her brown eyes darting toward the king.

"And there is none taken," Uther assured her. "I agree with her, Artura. Perhaps, I ought to consider marrying again. What say you, my Lady Helen? Have you any thoughts of marriage again?"

The Lady Helen's smile was breathtaking. "Some, Sire, if only a suitable gentleman would offer."

Artura and Morgana exchanged a glance.

* * *

><p>After their dinner with the Lady Helen, Artura decided she fancied a walk through the castle. The sun was just setting, casting a lovely, rosy glow over the fair city below. Artura's golden slippers were silent as she climbed the stairs to the western tower, the highest one in the castle. She stopped abruptly. In the window sat the same infuriating servant who'd ruined her dress earlier. She'd nearly forgotten about him. For a brief moment, she observed him, his short dark hair and pale skin that would've been more appropriate on a noble than a mere serving boy. His clothes were threadbare and battered. He looked over his shoulder, his bright smile fading into something akin to a grimace. His expressive eyes narrowed in a way that reminded Artura strangely of a cat. For a long moment, they stared at one another.<p>

"I am a princess," said Artura. "You ought to bow before my feet."

"As you wish, my Lady."

He jumped from the window and bowed in an overly dramatic fashion, drenched in sarcasm. "Satisfactory?" he asked.

"You are the most insolent man I have ever had the displeasure to meet."

"And you are the most arrogant woman I have ever had the displeasure to meet."

"Why do you think you can speak to me like that? You're just some country bumpkin!"

He raised an eyebrow. "Actually, I am."

Artura frowned. "You're strange. Who are you?"

"Merlin."

"From?"

"Ealdor."

Artura sighed heavily. "And pray tell, where is that?"

"Escetia."

Artura snorted in a very un-ladylike manner. "Oh, you're from _Escetia_; that explains it."

"Does it now? Care to enlighten me?"

"Well, everyone knows that Escetia isn't nearly as civilized as Camelot; your country does have odd mannerisms."

"No odder than yours."

Artura waved a hand dismissively. "Please, you're a _servant_. What would you know of mannerisms and proper etiquette?"

"More than you it seems."

Artura's smile faded, and she tilted her head slightly, as if she were a curious child. "You live in Camelot now, don't you?"

"Yes," he said. "Why?"

"You're my subject; you can't speak to me the way you are."

"And what are you going to do about it?"

Artura thought for a moment. "Nothing," she said, after some length. "It'd hardly be fair. You're just an idiot boy, after all. Now tell me; why are you in my castle?"

"I'm…the ward of the court physician."

Artura blinked slowly. "The court physician. And how did you come to be his ward?"

"I'm his nephew. My mother sent me to learn from him."

"Medicine?"

"Among other things."

"Hm. When did you arrive?"

"In time to see this morning's execution."

"Ah, yes," said Artura. "The sorcerer. Fortunate we found him, wasn't it?"

"I can't agree with you."

"And why not?"

"Magic is legal in Escetia. We think what you're doing is horrendous."

"We're trying to stop the evils of magic from spreading. How is that horrendous?"

"If he were really an evil and all-powerful sorcerer, he would've escaped, wouldn't he?"

Artura rolled her eyes. "Stupid boy. The knights of Camelot are highly skilled; they can deal with sorcerers. The sorcerers we bring to justice are very dangerous."

"Is that what you tell yourself to soothe your conscience?"

"No, it's the truth. Of course, what would a mere _peasant _know of such things."

Merlin opened his mouth to speak, and Artura shook her head. "You'd best hold your tongue, boy. You're about to speak treason, I fear. I'd feel quite guilty if I caused Gaius sorrow by ordering his nephew's execution."

"I doubt that very much."

Artura shrugged. "It doesn't matter what you think. I wish to retire now; it's getting late. Be a good little boy and go home, all right?"

"I'm not a _dog_."

"You are whatever I say you are," replied Artura, turning away from him.

"Good night, _Princess_," he said, putting much skepticism in the word.

Artura paused. "Good night, Servant."


End file.
